206 lines
12 KiB
Plaintext
206 lines
12 KiB
Plaintext
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= F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. =
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Fiction - Take 1
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----------------
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For starters, a fictional story. Read it, then any comments at the
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end of it. No doubt I will bitch up a storm because there are TOO many of
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these ignorant bastards in the world.
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It was only a ten minute drive to work. The only thing that made
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it that long was other people on the road. People that shouldn't be on the
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road in the first place. Yuppies on their car phones, moms with screaming
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kids, older people intent upon 'safety'. All of these people not paying
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attention to what is going on, causing all sorts of wonderful problems.
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Changing lanes without signaling, veering over and cutting others off.
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He hoped it wouldn't be like Tuesday, where he almost got run off the road,
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and prayed it wouldn't be like the Friday before that, where the guy pulled
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out in front of him while he was doing 40. Both times, he was able to get out
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of the way and avoid an accident. He didn't care much about his safety or
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anything. He just needed his car in one piece so he could get to work, and
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back. Like everyone else in the world, he was forced to be money's slave.
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Pulling in the parking place he looked at his clock, almost fifteen
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minutes early today, about the usual. The teenager quickly rolled up the
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window of his car, locked the door, and jogged inside. An hour later he would
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be bombarded with the stupidity of humans as they bought their lunch. One
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hour of prep work before that though, no problem. Little stuff around the
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resteraunt to make things go as smooth as possible. He changed the chalkboard
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sign so it listed the daily specials, the soup of the day, and the two new
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items on the menu. Hung it back on the wall right behind his cash register.
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In front of his register was a printed copy of the menu listing all the
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ingredients of each meal, the calorie count, and how much fat was in it.
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He worked at a restaraunt that catered to a 'healthy minded appetite'.
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Few more chores out of the way, he counted his register. One hundred
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and fifty dollars. That was always good to start and could cover anything he
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needed. Looking at the clock, the time approached 11:00 am, opening time.
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With a final swig of his diet coke, he walked back out front. Standing at his
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register he was in a good enough mood, ready to take on the lunch rush. It
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was always busy, about 2 hours of time, and hundreds of customers each day
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within that time. Between the nature of the store, and being next to the
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hospital, it was guaranteed customers. Glancing up, he sees his first
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customer walk through. *Sigh*.
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With a smile on his face he began the busiest part of his 6 hour
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shift. As usual, three registers, 300 people it seemed, but all the people
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on the registers knew what they were doing. They each knew the menu, the
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prices, and the ingredients, and what they didn't know was on paper nearby.
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The first hundred people, all daily customers, make the job enjoyable almost,
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starting brief, but friendly conversation, helping them with what they needed
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and moving on to the next customer. A little after 12 things start going down
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hill as usual. Fewer customers, first time customers, and other small things
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that raidly grew on him.
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A group of three walk in the door. Obviously their first or second
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time in. Walking in, looking around and smiling, looking to see if they seat
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themselves or walk up to the huge counter with three people standing behind
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cash registers. Realization hits, and they move closer. Three yuppies, all
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in early thirties, two with mobil phones, and all of them with this look of
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superiority. First one steps up further and the guy behind the register
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offers the man a menu with a list of items, and ingredients, then reminds him
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that he is welcome to ask any questions. Yuppie1 looks down at the menu for
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two seconds and back up to the menu with only the prices behind the counter.
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"Hi. I have been here before, but my friends haven't so I will order
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for them." <note: done with a 'I know everything' attitude.>
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"Ok sir. What can I get for you?"
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"I will take the daily special, my friend will take the combo special
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and the other will have the 'Very Vegetarian'.."
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<employee wants to scream>
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<'Oh yeah, you have been here. You just managed to order the three
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most vague orders you can get. Read the fucking menu.'>
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"Ok. First, there are three daily specials, <points to large board
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behind him>, which would you like?"
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"Oh. Uhhm...<looking at menu in hand>...I will take the Italian."
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<'Didn't I just point to this big board in front of you stating
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all the specials...is Italian on there? I don't think so. Get
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a clue dipshit.'>
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"Sir? Today we don't have the italian, we have these three. <lists
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them>." *sigh*
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"Oh. I will take the Santa Fe. And I want a potato with that."
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<'Duh? Doesn't the big board say that comes with it?>
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"Sir. It comes with a potato. Next, the combo special. That comes
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with a half sandwich, your choice of soup, salad, or potatoe and then
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your choice of chips, pasta, or fruit."
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<Yuppie2 steps up> "Lesse. Which sandwhich do you recomend?"
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"I like the roast beef sandwich. It is really good."
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"Hmm. I will take the chicken sandwich."
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<Employee starts getting pissed>
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<'Don't take my suggestion, then ask for one of the two sandwiches
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we don't do on the combo special. Ignore all the others that we DO
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do.'>
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"Sir. We can't do the chicken sandwich or the one below it on a combo
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special. The menu here shows which ones you can choose from."
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"Oh. I will take the Turkey sandwich." <steps back>
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<employees eyes roll>
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<'Like the menu says asshole, you have a few choices to make. You want
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just the sandwich? Bet that is a real combination eh?'>
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"And would you like soup, potatoe, or salad?"
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<Yuppie2 steps back up>
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"I get my choice?"
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<'Are we deaf AND dumb? Get a fucking clue please'>
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"Yes sir."
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"I will take the potato."
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<Employee quickly rattles off next sentence before yuppie can back up>
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"And would you like chips, pasta, or fruit?"
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<Yuppie asks what each are>
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"Chips are tortilla chips, pasta is a oil based pasta salad, and
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the fruit of the day is watermelon."
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<'Wow! A full master's degree and you can't figure that out?!'>
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"Hmm....<waste time>...I will have chips."
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<silent cheer from employee>
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"Ok. And on the third, the 'Very Vegetarian', would you like the
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VV sandwich, salad, or taco?"
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"You mean it comes in all three?"
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<'No dumbass, I am making this up. Read the fucking menu.'>
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"I think I will take the sandwich."
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<'*sigh* And you can't read either eh?'>
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"Would you like chips, pasta, or fruit? That choice is with ALL
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sandwiches.'"
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"Uhh. I think I will take pasta."
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<Yuppie1's phone rings>
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<*curse* from the employee. With a order half rung up I can't help
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anyone else>
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Minutes pass while the fucking yuppie talks about raquetball later
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with his bed buddies.
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"Ok sir. What would you like to drink?"
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<Yuppie1 smiles and steps up again. He is the one who has been here>
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"Give us 3 cold drinks." <turns to yuppie friends> "They only know
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the difference between hot and cold drinks here."
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<employee is quite pissed because he hates when people mock him.>
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"Cold drinks sir? Coke? Tea? Lemonade? Shake? Slush? We have a lot
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of cold drinks."
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<employee glares at him by now>
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"Oh. Three cokes please."
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<'bout damn time'>
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"Your total will be 18.42"
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<Yuppie1 breaks out a 100 dollar bill.>
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<'You couldn' fucking hit 110 at the ATM? Got to have those nice
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big bills to impress your loser friends?'>
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<Yuppie hands it to me with a look on his face like 'you'll never
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have one of these'>
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------<enter fiction>------
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"Excuse me you fucking yuppies. Please get the hell out of this store
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and get the hell out of my face. You are such a dumb ass yuppie
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who doesn't know shit about the real world. <sneer>"
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"<shock> Let me see your manager!"
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<Employee walks off, gets manager, runs out to car, comes back in.>
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<manager>"You said that to him?!?"
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"Yup. Sure did. Doesn't he look like a fucking loser?"
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<manager>"Your fired! I am extremely sorry about all this."
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"Ok. See ya!"
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<employee sticks around for a few seconds, waits til yuppies are
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seated, enjoying their meal, walks up to them.>
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"Hi! Boy I sure love when you ignorant bastards come through my line
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acting like you know everything about the restaraunt. Why the hell
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do you think I am here? Because I know this shit better than you.
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All three of you are fucking perversions of nature, and shouldn't
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be allowed to roam around. You sit back with your master's degrees
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which you got by cheating people, bribing others, and bullshitting
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your way through, and you expect to come in and treat ME like the
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imcompetant? That isn't how it works."
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<meanwhile, great shock comes over all their faces>
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"I think I will do society a favor today."
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<employee pulls gun and shoots each yuppie once in the arm, once in
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the leg, and once in the stomach. yes, he was carrying a 9mm with
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a big clip.>
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"There. Go rot in a hospital and do something good for society.
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Spend your money somewhere else, and stay the fuck out of public."
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<employee walks out quite content>
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The enD.
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Anyway, you get the point. Fucking lameness abounds and seemingly I
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get stuck with it all. I get so sick and tired of dealing with other people's
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shit, and cleaning up after them. People are so sloppy, so ignorant, so
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conceited, and overall, so unaware, it is pathetic.
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Fix it. If not someone else. You. It all starts with YOU making sure
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you don't fit in the above category. If you don't, then that alone makes you
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a plus to society, regardless of anything else.
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Believe that. Not the bullshit you are fed by your parents, or other
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adults. And make sure you don't believe the hype. Don't be a yuppie. Don't be
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this. Don't be that. Be yourself. That is the one thing I learned from a good
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friend and to date, that has held up. And something tells me it will continue
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to do so.
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-Dam
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ps- Thanx goes out to S.L. aka Bulldog. He got through to me.
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= Questions, comments, bitches, ideas, etc : z3mar@ttacs.ttu.edu : FUCK =
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= Official F.U.C.K. Distribution sites and information =
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= Board Number Other =
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= ----- ------ ----- =
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= Immortal Hate 806.745.8879 World HQ =
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= Ionic Destruction 215.722.0570 Eastern HQ =
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= Accounts NOT guaranteed on any F.U.C.K. distribution site. If you are =
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= interested in writing for, or in becoming a distribution site for =
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= F.U.C.K. call Immortal Hate, and apply for an account, or mail Dam =
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= at z3mar@ttacs.ttu.edu or on Immortal Hate. Knowledge is power... =
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